


eat the rich

by dandelionsknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Pre-Volume 7 (RWBY), Snowbyrd, as a treat, desk sex?? is this a valid tag??, porn without plot but like also it got kinda soft, schneewood forest - Freeform, winter can let her hair down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionsknight/pseuds/dandelionsknight
Summary: Robyn stands, lacing her fingers and stretching her arms above her head, a gesture so lazy and youthful, Winter remembers her doing the exact same thing after a long class at the academy, when they were just eighteen and competing to impress in their sparring class. It had all been so simple. Pretending to hate Robyn when they sparred and then making eyes at her in the dormitory hallway. Catching Robyn smile at her as she was unlocking her own room from across the hall had felt like someone, anyone was seeing Winter for the first time.Winter stands too, to show Robyn to the door, but she stops when Robyn asks, “So are we still on for drinks on Friday? As enjoyable as this has been.”Asking that question in her work office makes Winter blank out. Worlds should not be colliding like this. Her work was her work, the place where she should act disgusted of the woman who was expelled from Atlas Academy and became a rogue huntress on the streets of Mantle. Meeting Robyn for drinks every other Friday was its own thing, the jagged piece of her life that doesn’t fit but Winter can’t let go of.
Relationships: Robyn Hill/Winter Schnee
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	eat the rich

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Patcho418](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patcho418/gifts).



“You look like shit,” Winter says, when Robyn Hill strides into her office like she’s already carved her name into every inch of it.

“You should see what the other guy looks like.”

“I did. That’s why you’re here.”

The blood on Robyn’s lip is nearly black in the blue light streaming from the window behind Winter’s desk. There’s a wrongness to seeing Robyn in her office, the only verdant thing in a room full of squared-off angles and monochrome colors. Still, she sits and crosses her ankle over her knee and asks, 

“Why wouldn’t Ironwood meet with me?”

“The general has been extremely busy since the Fall of Beacon. Not that you would care, or take notice,” Winter says, folding her hands on the desk. 

Robyn shakes her head as she peels off her gloves, throwing them onto the ground next to her. “I have noticed. I’ve noticed the increased military presence in Mantle, harassing the citizens, and the Faunus most of all.”

“And somehow we’ve landed right back on what got you this meeting,” Winter says. “You need to control the Happy Huntresses.”

“They have _always_ acted under my orders.”

Winter flexes one of her hands, knuckles cracking. “Then perhaps you need to control yourself.”

It’s almost too easy, the fire that leaps to life in Robyn’s eyes, defiant energy snapping her body to attention even while sitting. Many people look at Robyn and think of springtime, of a hill carpeted in green grass stirring in a breeze. Winter knows the truth about her, the truth she’s tried to bury in the mossy earth since their days at the academy - that there is a bed of flammable tinder inside her heart, and all it takes is one fallen match to start the blaze. 

“Tell Ironwood to get the Atlesian Knights out of Mantle.”

“They are there to protect Mantle too, you know,” Winter says.

Robyn’s jaw is hard. “Then they’re doing a shit job of it.”

Winter knows what she should do: shut down this request all together and throw Robyn out of her office without a second thought, like leaving out her shirts to be collected by the laundry. In fact, she can imagine herself doing it, can perfectly picture herself standing and pointing to the door. But she doesn’t do it. There is a tenderness in the fire written in Robyn’s heart.

“I’ll pass along your complaint,” Winter says instead, and she means it.

“Very generous of you.”

Robyn stands, lacing her fingers and stretching her arms above her head, a gesture so lazy and youthful, Winter remembers her doing the exact same thing after a long class at the academy, when they were just eighteen and competing to impress in their sparring class. It had all been so simple. Pretending to hate Robyn when they sparred and then making eyes at her in the dormitory hallway. Catching Robyn smile at her as she was unlocking her own room from across the hall had felt like someone, anyone was seeing Winter for the first time.

Winter stands too, to show Robyn to the door, but she stops when Robyn asks, “So are we still on for drinks on Friday? As enjoyable as this has been.”

Asking that question in her work office makes Winter blank out. Worlds should not be colliding like this. Her work was her work, the place where she should act disgusted of the woman who was expelled from Atlas Academy and became a rogue huntress on the streets of Mantle. Meeting Robyn for drinks every other Friday was its own thing, the jagged piece of her life that doesn’t fit but Winter can’t let go of.

“Yes,” Winter says, only capable of the single syllable answer. 

Robyn plants one hand on her desk and grabs Winter’s tie with the other, slowly wrapping the silk around her knuckles, and pulls. Winter leans forward, toward her, drawn in by forces greater than just her hold on her tie. 

"Or we could start early," Robyn says, close enough for her breath to hit Winter’s lips. "I never get to see you in your work clothes." 

Her heart is pounding, throat bobbing. Sometimes the thought of Robyn is all that can get Winter through a long week, imagining when she can see her eyes sparkle in the dim light of some bar in Mantle, when they'll crash through the door of her apartment and forget for an hour, a night, who they are and what should be tearing them apart while they just keep coming back again and again. The definition of insanity, her father had liked to tell her, is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Thinking of Robyn, kissing her, fucking her, and doing it again and again, what did Winter expect? That the feeling would ever go away, that the spark beneath her skin when Robyn says her name would just fizzle out? 

Winter says, licking her dry lips, as coherently as she can manage, "The door or the curtains?" 

Robyn tilts her head, a smirk on her lips. "I'll do the curtains." 

It's almost embarrassing how fast Winter goes to the door, locks it and double-checks that it’ll stay that way. The massive curtains scrape against the rod as Robyn pulls them over the window, bathing the room in darkness. _Keep it that way,_ Winter almost says, when the darkness is deep enough she can hardly see her own hands. But Robyn turns on a floor lamp, and in its golden glow, crooks a finger at Winter and doesn't even have to say the words "come here" before she's moving. 

Robyn's lips are warm and soft, slightly chapped from the cold weather, and she tastes like the coffee she usually has in the afternoons. She puts her hands under Winter's thighs and lifts her onto her desk with ease; Winter wraps her legs around Robyn's waist, pressing herself as close to her lover as she possibly can.

She tugs off Robyn's scarf, tossing it onto her desk chair, and starts unbuttoning her jacket without ever breaking the kiss. When Robyn sucks on her lower lip, though, gently biting it, her hands still while she hums in pleasure. It'd been a total accident, when Winter learned just how much she liked a little roughness from her; Robyn usually was gentle, a stark contrast to the way she carried herself on the streets, but Winter never minded when a little of that commanding persona showed itself in their time together. 

"Someone's excited," Robyn says finally, breaking for air, both their lips already kiss-swollen. 

"We'll have to be quick," Winter says. 

"As if I can't make you come fast," Robyn says, and grabs her chin, running her thumb along Winter's lower lip and saying in a rasp, "The question is, can I do it twice?" 

She almost protests at the notion, but her heart and her body shut down her logical mind in an instant when Robyn asks, "Does that sound good?" 

Winter can only nod, because if she speaks, her voice will crack, Robyn will know just how much she wants her. Robyn takes off her jacket and makes quick work of Winter's shirt, tossing that on her chair too, then helps her out of her boots and pants. Normally Robyn is slower, likes to play games, make Winter wait for it, but they don't have the luxury of time now. 

They kiss again, Winter burying her hands in Robyn's hair and tugging her closer. If they're really going to do this, she wants all of her, as much as she can have. 

"What do you want?" Robyn murmurs against her lips. 

"What do I-" Winter cuts herself off before she comes off like a babbling idiot. There's so much she wants, but she manages, "Eat me out." 

"Perfect," Robyn says, planting a kiss just below her ear, her hand travelling between Winter's legs and pressing her fingers against her underwear, and the warm breath on the side of her neck, the way Robyn cups her sex, makes Winter squirm. "I can't wait to taste you." 

Winter always wonders if Robyn is seeing other women. She has to be. Robyn Hill is too charming, too strong, too confident, too everything to not draw the eye of countless suitors. That certainty of Robyn's charms prevents her from asking. But there’s a small part of her, a private part of her, that likes to think it’s only her. Winter sure isn't seeing anyone else. She has too much work, she tells herself, no woman would put up with a workaholic like her. But when Robyn whispers like that against her ear, Winter can pretend it's just her. 

"Lay back," Robyn says, a touch of that commanding tone presenting itself. 

_On my stapler?_ Winter almost quips, just to see what her lover would do, but Robyn's a step ahead, clearing the things off her desk and putting them on a side table. She lays back just as Robyn returns to the spot between her legs. Winter's never noticed the number of tiles on her ceiling before, rows of twelve she finds, counting them as she takes in a shaky breath. It's not exactly _comfortable_ , lying on top of her hard oak desk, but when Robyn puts her hands on Winter's calves and starts running them upwards, her calloused hands passing over Winter's knees and thighs as she slowly spreads her legs, Winter's no longer aware of any other sensation. 

They should be hurrying, Winter remembers distantly, but it feels like it takes Robyn ages to hook her fingers in her underwear and pull them down her legs. She's so open before her, and she grips the edge of her desk, as hard as she can. The desire in her core is molten, the need incessant, crashing against her senses again and again. 

Robyn leans down and kisses Winter's stomach, just above her belly button, and asks softly, "You okay? You look stressed."

Of course Robyn can tell just by looking at her. She says, “Just impatient, perhaps.” 

"Oh, I see,” Robyn says and moves to kiss her lips, murmuring, "Maybe you could use a little patience.”

Winter is fucking unraveling, the wetness between her thighs dripping now, and gods, she needs her between her legs, without any further preamble. 

"Just fuck me," Winter says, pressing one last kiss to Robyn's lips. 

Robyn quirks an eyebrow, but she's grinning. "Well, yes ma'am." 

Robyn kneels in front of her, putting her legs on her shoulders, and starts kissing her way up one thigh. She pauses to give her a quick nip and Winter presses her lips together to stop herself from crying out. Finally, finally, Robyn finds her to way Winter's sex, working her up with slow licks until she starts sucking on her clit. 

Winter bites down on her own knuckles, determined to stay silent, even as the pleasure mounts in her belly. Robyn holds her hips down when she tries to buck them against her mouth and continues her work on her clit, pressing her tongue against it, and Winter squeezes her thighs around her head. She's panting, sweat gathering on her skin, hyper aware of each flick of Robyn's tongue. When she shuts her eyes, she can even pretend they aren't in her office, that they're some place they own together, some bed that they bought and can curl up in after the sex is done and fall asleep to the sounds of the city streets outside.

The vividness of the fantasy startles her and she opens her eyes again - was that really what she wanted? When Robyn crooks a finger inside her, though, and keeps eating her out, the thoughts dissipate, lost in the haze of pleasure. She glances down at her lover's head between her legs; Robyn's eyes are closed, her hands squeezed around Winter's hips, but she opens them suddenly and though she doesn't take her mouth off Winter's sex, the way her cheeks twitch and eyes sparkle tells the story of the smirk Winter can’t see but knows would be there.

She shuts her eyes just as Robyn adds a second finger and sucks on her clit harder, the pressure pooling in her core, and she writhes, chasing the high in a way she's never so impatient for. It's all so good, and Winter finally comes, swallowing down a moan and settling for a deep groan in her throat as the orgasm sweeps through her. It's an effect she can never achieve solely on her own, the warm hum of pleasure in her body as her legs relax, releasing her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the desk.

Robyn coats both her thighs in kisses, dozens of them, light as drifting embers, pausing to leave one more on her stomach just as Winter sits up and seizes Robyn's shirtfront, pulling her into a kiss. She slides her hands up, cupping Robyn's face as they kiss fiercely, teeth and tongues clashing, normally a little too sloppy for Winter but at the moment exactly what she wants.

Winter unbuttons Robyn's red overshirt, pushing it off her shoulders, finally leaving her in just her trousers and undershirt. Robyn had taken off her boots at some point, but she can't remember when. As Robyn realizes Winter wants to slide off the desk, she helps her out, half-carrying her down, never breaking their kiss as Winter backs the taller woman into the wall.

"You haven't come twice yet," Robyn murmurs against her lips.

Winter grins. "And you haven't at all."

She pulls her undershirt over her head, finally revealing Robyn's powerful form outlined in the soft golden haze cast from the lamp across the room, her broad shoulders and biceps that Winter trails her hand down as she kisses Robyn's throat, her collarbones, between her breasts, finally kneeling in front of her and tracing the lines of her arbs with her tongue, planting a kiss just above the waistline of her pants.

Looking up through her lashes, Robyn is staring at her, a red flush on her cheeks as she whispers hoarsely, "Go on."

She helps Robyn out of her trousers and underwear and tosses them aside, now that she has what she wants. Lowering her mouth to the patch of curls, she presses her tongue against her clit, and starts teasing her with little licks, looking up at her.

Robyn slides her hand into Winter's hair, undoing her bun, running her fingers through her hair before giving it a slight tug. "Winter..." she says lowly, almost too quiet for her to catch.

She understands, though, and begins to eat her out with relish, wetness dripping down her chin, but Winter's too focused on Robyn's muffled groans and the way she tugs on her hair to wipe it off right now. Her hand slides up Robyn's body, and she seems to understand instinctually, lacing their fingers together.

Winter's not sure why she does that part; it just feels right.

Robyn's legs are quivering, so Winter takes that as the sign to suck on her clit with more passion, burying her face in her lover's sex. When Robyn comes, she manages to stay quiet, and Winter can only tell the orgasm hits her by the way she grips her hand tighter. She licks up all her lover's wetness thoroughly before wiping her mouth while Robyn pants, and starts gently running her nails over Winter's scalp, stroking hair out of her face. When she meets Robyn's eyes, they're full of fondness.

"Come here, you," Robyn says, and Winter stands.

Robyn kisses her forehead, her nose, and then her lips, but this one is softer than the ones that came before. Both their lips are red and swollen now, but the warmth of their connection is enough to make Winter stay. When Robyn puts her hands under Winter's thighs and lifts, she doesn't even have to ask before Winter jumps and Robyn turns around, pressing her back against the wall.

It’s straight out of some fantasy of hers how effortlessly Robyn holds her up, without even a drop of sweat on her forehead, and Winter kisses her neck to show her appreciation, lightly. Robyn can’t walk away from this with hickies after all, like a pair of teenagers. At least, not where people can see them.

She wraps her arms around Robyn’s shoulders as her lover’s hand moves down her body, dipping between her legs, and heat flares in her cheeks when Robyn grins at the wetness she finds there.

“What do you think?” Robyn asks, leaving a trail of kisses that starts on Winter’s jaw and ends just below her ear. “That I can make you come twice before anyone starts to miss you?”

“Seems you were the only one missing me,” Winter says, and regrets it instantly, but not really, when Robyn slides a finger inside her and she swallows down a moan at the tail end of her sass.

“You’re lucky this has to be quick, or I’d make you pay for that,” Robyn says, moving her thumb in circles over Winter’s clit. “You’ll just have to imagine what I’d do.”

Winter’s head falls back against the wall, and Robyn shifts them, pressing her further against the wall and tightening her arm around her waist as her hand continues to work between her legs. She crosses her ankles behind Robyn’s back and clings to her shoulders, unable to stop a whine from escaping her when she slides a second finger inside her. Somehow, in trying to stay quiet, Winter was making even more embarrassing noises, and Robyn would never let her hear the end of it.

“Relax,” Robyn says, kissing her cheek, an unexpectedly sweet gesture especially when she has two fingers buried inside her. “I’m not going to drop you.”

 _I know you won’t_ , Winter almost says, but only nods in response. The pace now is slower, but when Robyn crooks her fingers inside of her and continues circling her clit, the need is no less desperate, no less throbbing in her core. She digs her nails into Robyn’s shoulders, a way to let her know she’s thinking of her when she can’t moan her name, and Robyn seems to understand, because she kisses Winter’s pulse point and buries her face in the crook of her neck as she speeds up her fingers.

Gravity does a little work helping her fingers hit just the right spot, the one that makes Winter’s lips part in silent rapture, when the spark comes to life beneath her skin like paper drifting into open flame, and the pleasure pools in her core before seeping to the rest of her body, all the way down to her hands. She shivers as she comes, as Robyn holds her up through that, too, murmuring a few sweet nothings that Winter’s too hazy to capture the words of, but the sweet tone warms her to the bone.

When Robyn sets her down, Winter is still trembling, for no reason she can ascertain. Robyn just circles her arms around her, and Winter tucks her face in the crook of Robyn’s neck, and she’d never noticed how cold she kept her office until she is wrapped up in the warmth of her lover’s body like this. Robyn cups the back of her head and says into her hair,

“Sorry I ruined your bun.”

“As if you’ve ever been sorry for that.”

When Robyn laughs, Winter can feel the vibrations of it in her chest, and she wants to somehow save that feeling to seek it out the next time she needs a reminder of all the bright things still left in the world.

They sort out whose clothes are whose, and luckily Winter keeps a spare brush to reconstruct her perfect bun. Robyn always has a little of a disheveled look to her, so the flyaways in her ponytail and creases in her shirt don’t look any different on her. When Winter puts the things back on her desk, though, and remembers lying splayed out on it with Robyn between her legs, she makes an immediate plan in the back of her mind to thoroughly clean it.

“That was quite the little performance when this meeting started,” Robyn says, smirking and tugging her gloves back on. “You sounded so upset with me.”

Winter only tightened her tie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said what I had to say.” But she let Robyn see the smile at the corner of her mouth, if only for a moment.

Winter is standing behind her desk and Robyn on the other side. In another life, Winter might lean across it and kiss her on the cheeks or the lips before she leaves. In another life, this might have been some surprise visit from Robyn to her work, to give her some flowers at lunchtime, a sweet and romantic gesture turned into a quick office fuck. The notion of Robyn bringing her _flowers_ surprises Winter; she’d never received them before and it had never occurred to her she would ever want them, either.

When Robyn turns to leave, though, Winter asks, “Is it just me?”

“Just you?”

“Am I the only woman?”

She tilts her head. “Of course you’re the only one.”

“Really?”

“Care to take my hand?”

“No,” Winter says. “I believe you.” And she does, now that it’s come from Robyn’s own mouth.

Robyn nods, looking Winter up and down. “See you on Friday?”

What a ridiculous question.

“Of course,” Winter says, and she lets herself miss Robyn the moment she smiles at her just before she closes the door and leaves.

In another life, Winter would follow her out. Perhaps she still could in this life, some day.

**Author's Note:**

> everyone say thank you patcho for dragging me directly into schneewood forest hell
> 
> no but for real, all I really want is a happy ending for these two!! writing for winter schnee is more fun that it has any right to be.
> 
> hang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dandelionsnight) or [Tumblr!](https://dandelionsknight.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I managed to post this on New Year's Eve, so I suppose this is where I leave you for the year on my fic writing! whether you've been reading my writing since I started posting, you have no clue why I just posted this fic instead of updating any of my multi-chapter fics (shhhh), or you're a schneewood forest shipper who found this in the tag, I'm glad you made it down here. whatever year you're reading this in, I hope it's a happy one for you, and I'll see everyone in 2021!


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